Love or Money

"Remind me again why you're riding deliveries with me when you could be doing anything else in the world?" I asked my best friend.

Natalie and I had been friends almost since birth. We'd grown up in the same trailer-park together. We had the same dream - to escape the shit-hole we'd lived in our whole lives. We'd settle for living in a real house but our ultimate dream was to own homes of our own.

In Drafting class, we had learned to create floorplans. Natalie and I had spent nearly every waking moment since then, designing our dream homes. Hers was a mountain cabin by a lake - far from the oppressive sounds and smells of the city we lived in. My dream house was a treetop mansion that would encapsulate the treehouse-retreat that she and I had built in middle school and turn it into something that any kid would drool over - complete with hot tub and Olympic-sized swimming pool. (I was still kind of working on the logistics for the pool.)

Both of us had been convinced by our teachers, through the years, that the only way to make our dreams come true was to go to college and get a decent job. We were poor enough that college was pretty much paid for. Our grades were good so there was no fear of failing to meet the requirements that came with the finances. The problem was affording the laptop we needed to do our schoolwork on - and making sure our moms continued to pay the rent and keep the utilities turned on.

"Your deliveries take you to shitty neighborhoods..." she began.

"Like where we live?" I asked, laughing.

"Yes. And robberies are on the rise again..." she continued.

"Which is why you have a Taser and pepper spray?" I asked.

"Yes. And you owe me $20," she finished.

"Got it. That makes total sense," I said, snarkily.

"Fuck you, bitch," she said, laughing. "Can I not just hang out with you?"

"You know you don't have to?" I asked, growing more serious.

"I know. I DO worry though. You need a different job," she said.

"Or just a better neighborhood?" I asked her.

"Yeah. It'll all be better some day."

"Some day," I agreed, checking the address again.

Finally, I pulled up to where the house should be - to find that there wasn't a #22 Concord Court.

"Shit!"

Natalie looked at my phone and back at the houses around us. The numbers were hard to read - if you could find them - because the streetlight had been shot out and nobody had ever reported it - or the city didn't care. Probably the latter. They'd probably gotten tired of replacing it every month when the newest crack dealer decided to use it for target-practice.

I dialed the callback number as Nat and I watched a few faces appear behind curtains (if you can call a bedsheet hanging over a window a 'curtain') or mini-blinds.

"Hello? I've got a pizza here for #22 Concord Court but I don't see your house."

I looked at Natalie as the woman told me the correct address.

"Boulevard?!" I gasped. "Hang on."

I stuck her on speakerphone and entered the new destination into my GPS-app.

"Ma'am, the must have entered your address wrong. Your pizza came out of the Southtown store and it should have come out of Bridgerton."

"Can you still deliver my pizza?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I can but the GPS says it'll be another half-hour. You might be ahead to order again and get a hot pie. I'll call this in as an error at the home-office and you'll get refunded."

"It's always too hot to eat anyway," she said. "If you'll drive it up here, I'll tip you handsomely. I realize you'll be giving up deliveries to bring that to me. I used to deliver pizzas, once upon a time."

"I can do that," I told the woman, glancing at Natalie, wondering how much money "handsome" translated into. "Let me call my boss and let him know what I'm doing and I'll head your way."

"Perfect. What's your name, young man?"

"Max. Maxwell, ma'am," I replied.

"I'll see you soon, Max," she said, before hanging up.

"What the fuck?!" Natalie said, as I hit the number for the store.

I looked at her and shrugged.

Three minutes later, my boss was unhappy but - after checking the computer to see the address they'd entered - and then confirming the address the lady had given me - and looking back through her MULTIPLE weekly orders - he told me to get my ass on the road.

Natalie and I had been sitting on our seatbelts - which makes it easier to pop in and out of the car with deliveries but we'd have to take the bypass to get to the north side of the city with any speed - so we belted up and headed to the closest on-ramp.

"I don't know if I ever even been to Bridgerton," Natalie said, as we merged into freeway traffic.

"I know I haven't," I replied, checking my mirrors again and setting the cruise, praying it wouldn't short out the electric system in my shit-box of a car.

"You done after this delivery?" Nat asked.

"Yeah. Greg said that, by the time I dropped this off and drove back, I'd have like 10 minutes left in my shift."

"Surprised he didn't make you come in," she said.

"Me too."

~~~

Twenty minutes later, we left the freeway and eased into Bridgerton. A patrol car pulled up next to me at the traffic light and I began sweating - nervous that he'd be able to tell that I was not from anywhere around here because of the condition of the wreck I was driving. I was already practicing my speech when the light changed and he eased ahead. I made sure to stay a couple miles under the speed-limit in case my speedometer was off.

"Do they even have trailers here?" Natalie asked in a hushed voice as we drove past house after house that all seemed like mansions compared to where the two of us lived.

"I don't think so," I said, just as quietly.

When we finally found the address, I was speechless. It had a gate across the drive - with a LCD monitor and speaker mounted in the side of the brick archway that held the gate.

An older woman's face appeared on the monitor as I reached for what looked like the call-button.

"Max?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, belatedly remembering to smile.

"Come on up," she said.

The gate began opening even before the screen went dark.

I looked over at Natalie but she was busy, staring at the massive building at the top of the drive. I've never been to the Whitehouse but I'll bet this thing was bigger.

"Shit, Max!" she gasped.

"We should probably not cuss," I advised her.

"Yeah," she said, still staring at the building.

The mansion grew larger and larger as we got closer and closer.

The drive brought us under a covered entrance - with steps leading up to double-doors. The architecture of the house made me think of England - the pictures of where those dukes and duchess people lived. It wasn't brick; it was stone. Even in the wildest dreams and designs that Natalie and I had come up with, I had never even considered the amount of money that it would take to build something like this.

I dropped the car into 'park', opened the back door, and grabbed the thermal pack with the pizza inside.

"You coming?" I asked Nat.

"No," she said, trying to hide.

"Come on!" I told her. "This is once in a lifetime!"

"I'm underdressed," she complained.

"And I'm the fucking doorman?" I asked.

"Language," she said, smirking.

Just then, the front door opened. An older guy in one of those fancy suits peered out at us. The doorman was dressed significantly better than me.

"Max? Young miss? Mrs. Wellington would be delighted for you to join her in the lounge."

"Are... you sure?" I asked him.

"Quite sure, young man," he replied, smiling.

I had no idea how somebody who looked like he did could smile at somebody who looked like I did the way he was - but I immediately felt at ease. I was still uncomfortable about how I was dressed - and the rusty box of bolts that I'd arrived in - but this guy didn't seem to care.

"Grab the keys," I told Natalie.

Her eyes were as big as dinner plates. She nodded and - still watching the butler (or whatever he was) - she reached over, grabbed my keys, switched off the car, and tried to climb out. She wrapped herself in the seatbelt that she'd forgotten she was wearing but the doorman didn't react. Natalie scowled at me when I snorted.

When she stepped up next to me, the guy in the suit, pointed to the left and said, "Right this way."

My best friend and I stepped into an entry hall that had one of those staircases that's wide enough for ten people to walk side-by-side that leads up to a balcony on the second floor. The place looked like money, smelled like money... and the carpet felt like money. If I had to guess, the carpet that I was standing on was softer than my mattress.

"Do... uh... we need to take off our shoes?" I asked quickly.

"No, young sir," the man replied. "If there's anything that needs addressed, Greta will see to it but you needn't worry."

I assumed that Greta was the older lady in the maid outfit that we passed on our way to our destination. She smiled and nodded to Natalie and me as we passed. She was holding a feather-duster and appeared to be busy - although I hadn't seen dust on anything so far. Even the massive chandelier over the huge stairway had been radiant and spotless.

The lounge looked like a sports bar. There were a dozen tables scattered through the room. Every wall was covered in massive televisions with a different channel, sport, or game on each one. At the end of the room was a wall of shelves with more liquor than I had seen in my entire life. My mom would have shit herself.

Our hostess set down her drink and stood from a chair at a table near the bar, smiling broadly.

"Max! And who is your pretty friend?"

"This is Natalie," I said, turning to glance at my childhood chum and confidante.

"Are you two dating?" the woman asked.

Natalie and I glanced at each other and fidgeted nervously.

"Uh... Nat and I are best friends - have been since birth," I spouted.

The woman's eyes flitted between our faces.

"Come," she said. "Please sit... Max and Natalie. Can Reggie get you something to drink? I won't tell, if you want something stronger, but we have Coke or Diet Coke as well. Reg makes a vanilla Coke that's to die for."

"I'd be happy with a water but vanilla Coke sounds good," I said, looking at the butler/doorman whom our host had indicated was Reggie.

"Yes, thank you," Natalie said.

"Come," the woman said again, "sit. I'm hoping that I can convince you to share the pizza with me. Reggie and Greta will refuse and I'll be tempted to eat more than I should."

"Not to sound picky," I said, smiling, as I slipped the pizza box from the insulated carrier, "but what did you order?"

"Pepperoni and sausage," she reported, smiling, as she pulled Natalie's chair out a little to encourage her to sit next to her.

Reggie arrived with plates, napkins, forks, and two vanilla Cokes.

"Mrs. Wellington," he said, looking at her. "You still haven't told them your name."

"Ack! Thank you, Reggie. My apologies! My first name is Lenora - which you are welcome to use but I'm hoping we can be much less formal with one another and that you would call me Lynn."

The butler served two slices of pizza to each of us and then looked at his boss.

She finished the bite of pizza in her mouth and said, "Thank you, Reggie. You and Greta can retire for the evening. You really should have been relaxing hours ago instead of tending to me."

"Have a good evening, madam," he said, bowing with a smile, before disappearing.

"Max, I'm hoping you're not required to do any more deliveries this evening?"

"No, ma'am," I replied - and then immediately realizing I'd talked while chewing.

Lynn didn't say anything.

"Friends since childhood, huh?" Lynn asked Natalie.

My friend nodded but didn't speak, chewing her food quickly in case there were more questions.

"You two live near one another?" she asked me.

"Yes - same trailer court," I replied.

"Which one?" she asked.

"Uh..." Natalie said. "I doubt that..."

"Come now, try me. You might be surprised. Wait. I'll guess. How long do you drive to get to work?"

"Five minutes," I said.

"And you work from the Southtown store?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is it Candletree?"

"How the hell...?!" I gasped.

"Language," Natalie said - but her eyes were as big as mine.

"I grew up in Snakewood," Mrs. Lenora Wellington told us.

"Get the fuck out!" Natalie gasped.

Nobody who wasn't from Snakewood called the place that except for their inlaws, outlaws, and ex's who lived in Candletree.

"It's true," our hostess said.

"How?" Natalie asked.

"How did I get from Snakewood to #22 Concord Boulevard?"

Natalie nodded.

"Pure, dumb luck," she said. "If I have my way, it'll be the same dumb luck that caused some poor girl at Pizza World to type my address wrong and sent the two of you to visit me."

"Do you want to leave Candletree?" she asked, looking between the two of us.

"Yes," we said at the same time.

"What's your plan?" she asked.

"College is paid for," I said.

"Grants?"

I nodded.

"Working to cover the electricity and the rent?" she asked.

"... and to buy a laptop," I said.

She looked at Natalie.

"Same. I work at the mall - instead of delivering pizzas."

"Edgewood?" she asked.

Natalie nodded.

This woman knew Southtown. I couldn't fucking believe it. We were sitting in the fanciest house I had ever seen, talking to a woman who - even in her casual clothes - looked like a millionaire. She looked almost old enough to be my mother's mother - but her teeth, hair, and skin were perfect.

"How did you..?"

"Hold that question, please," she said. "In fact, don't worry about how I got out. We're just gonna worry about getting you out. Walk with me."

She stood to her feet. The gown she wore looked like it was made of pure silk. It hugged her slender body. Her eyes sparkled when she saw me looking.

For the next hour, we toured the house. I had never been in a house that took that long to see. If we had raced through, we could have probably done it in a quarter of the time - but Natalie and I spent most of our time frozen in place as our eyes took in each new room and space.

The greenhouse was the size of a football field. The movie theatre had seats for a hundred. There was not one Olympic-sized swimming pool - there were two - one indoor and one out, connected by an underwater tunnel.

Finally, we returned to the lounge, our seats, and our drinks.

Mrs. Wellington drained the whiskey that remained in her glass and looked at Natalie.

"Have you ever fooled around with another girl?" she asked.

Natalie glanced at me, swallowed, and nodded.

Our hostess looked at me - up and down - and looked back at my friend.

"No boys?" she asked.

Natalie glanced at me and shook her head 'no'.

Mrs. Wellington turned, slightly, in her chair and - for some reason - I got nervous.

"Do you think Natalie is pretty?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, confidently. Natalie was gorgeous.

"Have you ever kissed her?"

"No!" I said, quickly.

"If Natalie said it was okay, would you have a problem kissing her?"

"On the lips?" I asked.

"For now," she replied.

I hesitated.

"Let me try again," Mrs. Wellington said. "If Natalie told you that she wanted a kiss from you, would you kiss her?"

"Yes," I said.

"You like her?"

"She's a terrific friend," I said.

"You've never thought about her in any other way?"

My eyes shot to Natalie's. She was curious about my answer - that much was obvious.

"I don't want to make her uncomfortable," I said.

"Uncomfortable how? Answering my question? Or thinking about her sexually?"

"Both?" I said, cringing.

"You've thought about me? Us?" Natalie asked.

"I'm sorry!" I said.

"It's okay," Natalie said.

I looked into her eyes. It WAS okay. She was okay with me thinking about her sexually.

"Have you thought about Max sexually?" Lenora asked Natalie.

"Yes," my friend said.

I gaped at her. She blushed.

"And that's why you've never been with another boy?" Mrs. Wellington guessed.

Natalie nodded.

"And you tried with a girl because you wanted to cum but were tired of fingering yourself but the only boy you wanted was Max?"

"Yes," Natalie said, in a whisper, staring at my face, looking for acceptance.

"Okay, pause," Mrs. Wellington said. "I'm happy that I could help the two of you discover this but I have my own little agenda."

"Agenda?" Natalie asked her.

"How much would I have to pay you to have sex with me?" she asked Natalie.

Natalie gaped at her.

"Tonight. Here."

Natalie was speechless.

"Max, same question."

"Sex with you?"

"Yes."

"A hundred..." I cringed as I thought about how much money I still needed for my laptop, "... two hundred?"

Lenora looked at Natalie.

"I will give you a thousand dollars - each - to spend the night in my bed. I want to cum at least twice. I want you to eat my pussy while Max fucks you from behind. We continue until all of us have cum. If he doesn't get you off, I'll eat your cunt until you orgasm. After that, you lay next to Max and the two of us make out with him as I ride his cock until I climax again. Then we sleep. Tomorrow, the two of you are free to go on your way - or we negotiate a longer contract - your choice. You can decide independently - or as a couple. I'd prefer to have both of you, but I can make do with just one."

"Yes," Natalie said, as soon as the woman finished speaking.

"What?!" I gasped.

"Max, say 'yes'," my best friend ordered. Her voice softened and she said, "Please."

"Natalie," I said. "Are you sure?"

"She's going to let you fuck me first," Natalie replied. "When Kelly and I ate each other, I actually fantasized about you fucking me from behind as I ate her out. I've saved my cherry for you. I've never had anything more than my finger inside of my cunt and I made sure to leave my hymen for you. I've wanted to tell you for so long but I was beginning to think this day would never come. If you fuck my pussy while I'm sucking Mrs. Wellington's cunt, I will positively explode - probably before you even bust my cherry. Max. I've dreamed about this. The only two things I've ever wanted was to give myself to you and to escape from Candletree - and in that order."

"Natalie," I said, "I'm not sure what to say."

Mrs. Wellington cleared her throat and said, "Based on the way your pants are tenting right now, young man, I think you should take MY money and Natalie's cherry."

Natalie stepped over and took my hand, twining her fingers into mine. She looked at our hostess. Lenora hopped up and headed towards the entry-hall. I watched her ass wiggle, in her thin gown, as Natalie and I followed her up the stairs.

"I know I promised that I'd wait until tomorrow," Mrs. Wellington said, "but I didn't show you these rooms on the tour." She opened a door and said, "This room will belong to one of you, mine is in the middle, and then you can decide who gets the other room."

She left the door ajar and led us to her room - another thirty feet down the hall.

"What if..." Natalie asked.

"If you want to share a room," Mrs. Wellington interrupted, "that's fine with me - as long as you're available when I need you."

We slipped into her bedroom. It was like an apartment all on its own. To the right was a small library with a desk. Beyond that was a reading area with massive windows and numerous flowering plants, ornamental trees, and shrubs. Straight ahead was the biggest four-poster bed I had ever seen. To the left was a six-person hot tub and behind it was a walk-in shower and the restroom area.

"I'm not suggesting that you two need a bath," Mrs. Wellington purred, "but would you like a shower before we move to the bed?"

"I would love one," Natalie said, "and Max smells like he hasn't bathed in days. Did your water get turned off again?"